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Updated: May 14, 2025
Had he hit the little C of the top octave, the tinkle of that also might have been heard. "Gentlemen and ladies, we have to begin somewheres. What am I bid?" A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silence. Some there were who gazed at the Rothfield with longing eyes, but who had no intention of committing social suicide. Suddenly a voice, the rasp of which penetrated to St.
"I expect all that we want is right here," he said. And at the sight of the great chandelier, with its cut-glass crystals, he whistled. Then he walked over to the big English Rothfield piano and lifted the lid. The man was a musician. Involuntarily he rested himself on the mahogany stool, and ran his fingers over the keys.
"I expect all that we want is right here," he said. And at the sight of the great chandelier, with its cut-glass crystals, he whistled. Then he walked over to the big English Rothfield piano and lifted the lid. The man was a musician. Involuntarily he rested himself on the mahogany stool, and ran his fingers over the keys.
"The Judge is still asleep," he said gently. "And he may not wake up in this world." Silently, sadly, they went together into that little room where so much of Judge Whipple's life had been spent. How little it was! And how completely they filled it, these five people and the big Rothfield covered with the black cloth.
"I expect all that we want is right here," he said. And at the sight of the great chandelier, with its cut-glass crystals, he whistled. Then he walked over to the big English Rothfield piano and lifted the lid. The man was a musician. Involuntarily he rested himself on the mahogany stool, and ran his fingers over the keys.
Had he hit the little C of the top octave, the tinkle of that also might have been heard. "Gentlemen and ladies, we have to begin somewheres. What am I bid?" A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silence. Some there were who gazed at the Rothfield with longing eyes, but who had no intention of committing social suicide. Suddenly a voice, the rasp of which penetrated to St.
Had he hit the little C of the top octave, the tinkle of that also might have been heard. "Gentlemen and ladies, we have to begin somewheres. What am I bid?" A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silence. Some there were who gazed at the Rothfield with longing eyes, but who had no intention of committing social suicide. Suddenly a voice, the rasp of which penetrated to St.
"Now, gentlemen, and ladies," said the seller, "this here is a genuine English Rothfield piano once belonging to Colonel Carvel, and the celebrated Judge Colfax of Kaintucky." He lingered fondly over the names, that the impression might have time to sink deep. What am I bid?" He struck a base note of the keys, then a treble, and they vibrated in the heated air of the big hall.
"Now, gentlemen, and ladies," said the seller, "this here is a genuine English Rothfield piano once belonging to Colonel Carvel, and the celebrated Judge Colfax of Kaintucky." He lingered fondly over the names, that the impression might have time to sink deep. What am I bid?" He struck a base note of the keys, then a treble, and they vibrated in the heated air of the big hall.
"The Judge is still asleep," he said gently. "And he may not wake up in this world." Silently, sadly, they went together into that little room where so much of Judge Whipple's life had been spent. How little it was! And how completely they filled it, these five people and the big Rothfield covered with the black cloth.
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